Unexpected Happenings
by Mr. Saxobeat
Summary: A series of one-shots and drabbles involving the Hetalia world. Most characters should appear, but most of it revolves around Italy Romano.
1. When You're Drunk

Romano had a pitifully low tolerance for alcohol, which led him to be draped over Prussia's lap in moments. Prussia was definitely enjoying his lapful of southern Italian.

Later, when everyone was leaving, Romano realized that he was having a hard time focusing. Everything was turning double, and wow when did Prussia get so hot?

"Up…" reaching his arms out to Prussia, he tried to signal that he wanted to be carried. Later on when he was sober, he would heavily deny this, but now he was too drunk to care.

Prussia seemed to understand and positioned Romano on his back, so he was carrying him piggy-back-style, legs hooked over his hips. As they made their way back towards the hotel, under the streetlights, Romano mumbled something.

"...Prussia?..Don't..don't tell anyone, but I really like…" Romano paused, forgetting what he was talking about and giggling a little. Prussia's heart hammered, and he was surprised that he was able to force out a question calmly.

"L-like?"

"...tomatoes…" Sighing, Prussia chuckled and shifted his arms to make himself more comfortable.

"Your priorities in life are seriously whacked." Romano pressed a sleepy smile to the back of his neck, eyelids fluttering shut. A few moments later, a heavy weight pressed down on his shoulder, and he looked over. Romano's head was turned away from him, a soft snore showing that the Italian had fallen asleep.

The lobby of the hotel had mostly cleared out. No one was there except for France, who was scrolling through texts on his phone, a glass of wine in front of him. He lifted up his head when they entered, winking when he saw the sleeping nation on Prussia's back.

"Drunk," Prussia mouthed to him, before heading towards the elevator. He fought the urge to kick something when he saw the 'Out of Order' sign on it. Tripping over his own feet, he made his way to the stairs on the right. Then he remembered that Romano's room was on the sixth floor.

Deciding, 'Fuck it all' he turned back and headed for his room, which was luckily on the first floor.

Inside his room, he settled Romano onto the bed and after a few moments (to make sure he wouldn't wake up any time soon), placed a quick kiss on his brow.

'_Gott_, I must be drunk.'


	2. Paparazzi

**Paparazzi - Lady Gaga**

* * *

_We are the crowd, we're c-coming out, got my flash on it's true, need that picture of you~_

Romano's hips rocked back and forth, a hairbrush, acting as a faux microphone, in his hand and a pair of purple-tinted sunglasses settled across the bridge of his nose.

_It's so magical, we'd be so fantastical_.

He strutted down the hallway, pausing at the massive mirror and flipping his hot pink feather boa across his shoulders. Pivoting, he walked back into the bedroom on the left and kicked open the door.

_It don't have a price, loving you is cherry pie, cause you know that baby I, WANT SOME FUCKING FOOD NOW, DAMMIT. IT'S YOUR TURN TO COOK, PRUSSIA,_ he sang, staying on tune the whole time.

Prussia groaned and groped around for a pillow to shove over his head. He didn't need this in the morning. Romano's apparent like for Lady Gaga music was cute _but not in the morning._

"Five more minutes, Roma..." he whined. When the blankets were suddenly ripped away, exposing warm flesh to the air, he curled up into a ball and refused to move.

"I'm not your maid, bastard. It's your turn to make breakfast today!" Prussia groaned. Reaching over, he grabbed Romano's wrist and pulled him onto the bed.

"Sleep now, food later," he growled out. Draping an arm over the Italian's shoulders, he pulled him closer, relishing in the sudden warmth. He was asleep again in a matter of moments, making no reply to the half-assed accusations and profanity spewing from the other's mouth.


	3. Sweater Weather

**Sweater Weather - The Neighborhood**

* * *

The gentle wind brushed her hair from her shoulders, long wisps of hair floating as the sea breeze from off the coast rolled in. The soft light from the sunset caused her blond hair to glow silver and the brooding blue of the ocean reflected her eyes.

She dug her toes into the sand.

"This is a stupid date."

Lovino looked over.

"Not like I want to be here either." Usually he was more civil to women, but he was a little irritated at the impromptu blind date their friends had forced them into. Because they thought it would be hilarious to pair up their two most withdrawn buddies, and maybe they'd create little introverted babies later in life. Haha, right?

Natalya Arlovskaya shivered a little in her white shorts and ruffled blouse. She'd set aside her usual gothic styled dresses and dressed more casually for today. Obviously this was a mistake.

Lovino frowned, hazel eyes narrowing.

"Are you cold?" Natalya rolled her eyes before looking away. She picked at the black polish on her nails absently. She'd need to ask Feliks to fix that next time she saw him.

"It's none of your concern." She felt a spark of jealousy at the way he was dressed. A warm hoodie over a pair of grey skinny jeans and a pair of tattered black Converse was a safe barrier against the gusts of cold air.

Her eyes widened a little as she watched Lovino start to pull the green sweatshirt off his torso. He draped it across her shoulders clumsily.

"Here." He gave her an awkward pat on the shoulder before turning away, eyes trying to find something to focus on.

"What are you doing? Now _you'll_ be cold." Lovino was wearing a black T-shirt with the logo of some out-dated band stamped across the chest. Natalya watched as he unconsciously rubbed his hands against his arms for warmth.

"It's okay, I can stand it."

"You think I can't? Why? Because I'm a woman?"

"What? You're a feminist now?" He raised an eyebrow at her. She shrugged.

"I'm just saying that this is stupid."

"You think everything's stupid."

"I don't think Ivan's stupid," she said, bringing up her brother. Lovino just snorted and shrugged his shoulders before lying down on the sand, hands behind his head. After a few moments of silence, she slid her thin arms into the hoodie, fumbling for a few moments before her head peeked out from the top. She tugged it down over her body, and brought her knees to her chest, hugging them.

The sweater smelled like Lovino, earthy, with just the slightest whiff of cologne. She inhaled deeply.

The beach was mostly empty by now, with only a few stragglers staying behind to watch the last of the red glow fade beneath the horizon. It was late, but honestly, Natalya didn't really feel like moving from her spot, and with a glance at Lovino, it seemed he shared her sentiments.

In a sudden spur of the moment, she lay down beside him, pale hands taking his olive-toned ones and sliding them into the front pocket of the hoodie.

He looked at her, startled, the red on his face matching the sun that had just sunk below the waves.

"W-What?"

"Now you won't be cold, either. I'm not cold, you aren't cold, it's a win-win situation." His eyebrows furrowed as he tried to decipher a hidden motive. He looked cute like that. Kind of like a confused puppy.

Natalya shook her head. What was this? She hated puppies.

"Right…" After a moment, he grinned.

"So it's alright if I do this?" He hesitantly wrapped an arm around her, ready to spring apart should she show any sign of violence.

"Mmh…" It was oddly comfortable, and it'd been a long day, and she kinda just wanted to sleep here on the beach.

"Huh? Really?" He brought back his arm in surprise and looked at the relaxed expression on her face. He rubbed the back of his neck in an embarrassed fashion. "Well...it's getting really late, so we should probably head back."

Lovino stood up, brushing sand off himself. He held out a hand to help Natalya up.

* * *

Back at home, Lovino was going to throw the hoodie that Natalya had returned into the laundry basket before he noticed something in the pocket.

He unfolded the slip of paper to see a phone number printed on it in small handwriting.

He smiled. How the fuck did that get there?

"Oy, Feli! Guess what?"


	4. So What We're Different?

**AN: I wasn't going to put this up since it's rather short, but my friend like it, so I hope you do, too. :)**

**A Message - Coldplay**

* * *

"You're obnoxious, mean, perverted. You're crude and vulgar." Lovino threw his hands up in the air. "How do I even like you?"

"Because I'm hot as hell," Gilbert preened.

"I'm _blind_, Gilbert. I can't even see you. Why do I put up with you?"

"Whoa there." Gilbert placed his hands on Lovino's shoulders and steered him left. "Almost crashed into a pole there, _schatz_."

Lovino stilled for a second before walking again.

"T-Thanks."

Then, he smashed into a wall. Lovino rounded on him.

"You cock-sucking son of a bitch! Where are you? Come here, so I can knee in your inch-long dick! You fucking bastard!"

Gilbert doubled over, laughing.

"You should have seen your face!" He snorted. "Priceless!"

"You're such an asshole. That wasn't funny." Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes from the pain. Not to mention, it didn't feel so good to have his disability picked on.

"Oh, oh. I'm sorry." Gilbert awkwardly put his arms around Lovino. "Please don't cry. Your brother will kill me."

Lovino glared up at him through a fan of dark lashes, eyes slightly off from their target.

"And it makes me sad to see you cry," Gilbert amended.

"You're so sappy," Lovino accused him. He buried his head in the other's shoulder, savouring the security it brought him. Gilbert nuzzled his hair, and they stood like that for a few minutes, just embracing and not talking. After a few minutes, Lovino spoke.

"I hope this fucking hurts." He brought his leg up and kneed Gilbert in the crotch, snickering when his partner groaned.

"Ugh...you're such a little bitch."

"Love you, too, Gil."

* * *

**Next up: Frying Pangle**


End file.
